


I'll Drink To The Man That Shares Your Bed.

by yvette_cigarette



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bars and Pubs, But not really im just sensitive lmao, Coming Out, Drunk Sex, EYCTE era, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Night Stands, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, just tryna write again honestlyyy, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvette_cigarette/pseuds/yvette_cigarette
Summary: Fresh out of the closet and his relationship with Alexa, Alex seeks affirmation in the form of an equally inebriated Miles Kane.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	I'll Drink To The Man That Shares Your Bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote in hopes of getting back into writing Milex, it's drabble with a pinch of angst and merelyy implied smut. Hope you enjoy, i'm not a writer so forgive any boo-boos :3  
> Le Tumblr: yvette-cigarette if u wanna be a freak with mee and headcanon some shit ;)))  
> (Title is Bob Dylan's I Contain Multitudes)

Alex opens his eyes to the light of an unfamiliar bedroom. Scents he can only token as _male_ find him where he lays under disordered bed sheets, his temples haloed by a fierce headache, his bare chest lifting and falling softly as the sun hits him from an uncovered window. 

It’s been eons since Alex was last met with a morning such as this one; his hands curl around a cushion too soft for his liking, he hosts a sharp hangover in answer to the amount of glasses he’d found the bottom of the night before, his legs ache.

There was something about being fresh out of the closet that had Alex’ nerves buzzing the second his eyes opened. The sharing of a bed with another lad was new to him. Alex knew he was welcome, and yet a kind of sheepishness befell him. 

That anxiety had spiked the night before in the drone of the bar and the roar of the crowd. But there was something in the way the man sleeping beside him had taken down the right defenses at the right hour - had undone a hard day and taken Alex under that leather-clad wing. 

Alex sits up, the ache to his nether region had him wincing slightly - a testimony to the embarrassingly eager fucking they’d done.

He runs a hand through his unwashed fringe, blinking downward to the sight of Miles’ exposed arse. It was a nice view, he smirked. His eyes rake up the curve from the lad’s tail bone to the soft juts of his shoulder blades, and higher to his shaved head and the side of his face, which is squished like adolescence into the pillow.

Miles was...something. An enigma to say the least. With that laugh that sent nerves away, and that touch that brought them back. Because Miles saw everything, every minute shift. The second one caught his attention they were his subject, or at least ran the gamble of acting as a muse.

His chest sinks with an exhale, and he swings his legs off the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress as his head throbs. 

That's Miles’ shirt there - flung at the dresser the night before in a frantic purge of each other’s clothes. It's Ashes To Ashes, Bowie because they were both born to the wrong generation apparently. It’s what had first caught Alex’ eye the night before. 

//

He’d met Miles the only way he knew how to meet attractive men - utterly pissed.

Three sheets to the wind, with his hand curled around a whiskey neat, he’d been explaining to an equally drunk Nick the unspoken moral behind The Bridges Of Madison County - he’d finished it the night previous and probably needed a better hobby than old, romantic fiction. 

After ten minutes his curly haired friend had waved Alex’ thesis away and excused himself to the bathroom - threatening to cut Alex off if he didn’t change the subject when he returned. 

He’d groaned and nodded, crestfallen in his childish inebriation as he threw his drink back.

Really, Alex was keen to ventilate over anything other than work or relationships; he’d spent the meat of day hunched over his laptop and was more than grateful for the dimmed lights and voices around him other than his own - proofreading sentences as they lost their meaning. 

Miles Kane - with his own intoxication and problems he was hoping to escape with the honest froth of a pint - had slipped into Nick’s seat and called for a drink over the Joy Division that was playing.

He knew that face; with that intelligent shape and sensual motion to it. A friend of Matthew's, must be Alex thought.

Alex’ drunk, transparent self had seen nothing improper about leaning over and parting the stranger’s jacket to admire the shirt underneath. Sensing the touch, Miles had simply grinned and aimed just as curious eyes at him.

Alex nodded appreciatively up at Miles, “cool shirt.” He’d mumbled, only blushing a little as he turned in his bar seat to sniff the margarita he’d apparently summoned. 

“Thanks.” He’d slanted a smirk down at Alex, one the slighter man could feel on his shoulders like a pair of lovely hands. 

For a moment Alex just watched his glass as Miles watched him, trying to remember how the fuck one flirted with beautiful strangers. 

“Yer cute.” Ah, so that was how. 

Scoffing, blushing, trying to remember if he had lube at home - Alex opened his mouth around another sip, setting the drink down with something not so far from conviction in his voice when he asked, “get ye a drink?”

It was Miles’ turn to scoff, which had Alex’ gut sinking.

“Love,” he leaned over, setting Alex’ heart alight - it fluttered like he was bloody 16. “Lad’s like you should _never_ pay for drinks.” It was a line for sure, but Alex said nothing as Miles flagged down the barkeep and ordered Alex a Jameson, turning in his seat to fully regard the boy.

Alex himself had only rolled his eyes partly to the gesture, chewing his lip as his finger followed the circle of his margarita glass. 

“Miles.” A fine, thin hand was offered by way of a belated introduction, Alex shook it and gathered up a smile. “Alex.” 

//

In Miles’ bathroom with it’s natural lighting and powdery-white walls, Alex gargles the taste of his night and spits it down the sink, rubbing cold water around his sleep-puffy eyes. 

He looks around the room for a towel, stepping over a pair of Miles’ briefs to reach one. After drying his hands he feels a chill caress his bare legs - he’d pulled on only his shirt which thankfully just covers his dick - and moves out into the bedroom again.

“Hey.” 

Alex jumps, turning from where he’d been softly shutting the door to find Miles sitting up in bed. 

“Hullo.” He exhaled.

A car gasps by outside, and Alex is struck once more by Miles’ tenuity. His toned, slender limbs and delicate chest. How it rose and fell like a miracle, how his crooked smile made complete sense on his face and how Alex was still walking off their dedication from last night. 

Alex swallows thickly, moving towards his boxers. “So…” Oh Christ, now he had to commit to a sentence. He sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his underwear up, shuffling back to lean by the headboard just as Miles does. 

Alex feels Miles’ eyes on him as he picks at the hem of his shirt, and he smiles when Miles’ hand takes his, a thumb rubbing at his skin.

“This...last night were lovely.” Miles says with something not unlike hesitance, “if tha’ isn’t too, ye know, forward…” 

Alex feels himself grinning as he avoids Miles’ eyes, studying the dresser across the room. “No, I...” He purses his lips, “I feel the same.” 

Miles breathes a sigh of what Alex could flatter himself by believing was relief. Miles’ fingers curl around the gaps in Alex’ and another car flies by just outside, where it was surely a late, cloudy Saturday morning.

He should head off. Alex didn’t want to assume his place. He refuses to let himself imagine any kind of routine in the future between them. They were just two lads looking to get their rocks off - hoping to keeping the cruelty to a minimum. 

“I...should go.” Alex clears his throat, his free hand scratching at his smooth cheek. “Get out of yer hair.” He huffs a small, self deprecating smile - turning to Miles when he senses an arguing reaction. Those eyes, the honey-hazel ones that were like loaded guns, sink into his own shifting, awkward gaze. 

“Alex…” His own name had never sounded so foreign to Alex' ears.

“Mm?” Alex answers softly, sensing his sudden stance at some kind of edge - like he's seconds from jumping out of this character he’s played for the last twenty-nine years and into someone free of consequence.

Miles licks his lips, just as he’d done the night previous. 

“It’s just-” Miles' words are sealed tight behind his lips as Alex crashes into them with a wanton kiss - he has no idea where this sudden surge of certainty had come from but rides it gratefully - hands coming to mimic a hesitant cradle of Miles’ face. 

He tastes like Jack Daniels and sex and Alex’ dick and that freedom which Alex had shied away from for so long.

He tastes like everything Alex had never admitted to needing.

//

“Shit,” Miles had mumbled into Alex’ lips, their breaths mingling where they stood at Miles’ front door, the keys in the lad’s hand chiming as he jammed them at the keyhole. 

Alex had bitten his lip, giggling into Miles’ neck as his stomach fluttered, nervous for the thresholds he was about to cross. The surrender of control, the way his defenses were certain to be fractured with the gentle touch of Miles’ control. 

“Miles?” He exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. This didn’t need to matter, he reasoned with the confession ready to expose itself. It was just a shag, he told himself. An escape, a vice, an answer to the loneliness. Miles didn’t need his life story which certainly came with the admission that he’d never been fucked. Never known a coarse, yet certain hand over his skin. The brush of a stubble down his neck, or the gentle pain of taking a part of another man inside you. Nervous wasn’t the word for what he felt.

“Sorreh, babeh.” Miles sighed, “seein’ double as it is.” He joked, nuzzling his nose into Alex's cheek which only had the boy crumbling, a wanton kiss pressed to his cheekbone. “Gonna get ye inside, nice an naked on me bed and-” the door clicked open, Alex’ cock beating pathetically behind his fly. 

Alex had made a needy sound, nodding silently before Miles leaned lower to cup his pink cheeks and curl his tongue around Alex’. “Mmmph,” his cheeks are burning and he’s beyond grateful for the shadows and dim street lights - hiding his flustered, lost, hungered state.

“Miles,” he sighed, the name still new to his tongue as he moved with the lad, pushing the door open. "Want you..."He breathed heavily, his hands curling around the leather of the lad's jacket.

“I know, god, I know. same ‘ere, baby. Such a pretty little- fuck.” Alex snickered at that, shoving Miles with a playful, ‘fuck off’. 

They'd made out in the kitchen for a while, with Alex' ass on the counter, Miles standing between his legs, keeping it down for the sake of flatmates and modesty, until they eventually stumbled to Miles’ room where they parted ways with their clothes, Miles pinning Alex to the bed.

In hopes of prefacing the night, “Miles, I...it’s uh, been a while.” He murmurs it half-heartedly into Miles’ neck, his hands curled around the trim, bare waist of the lad. “Like, a long while.” He breathes it out with a sliver of truth; he hadn’t had a shag since Alexa, and with that he recalls himself back in her bed - admitting to desires he’d never let free before. Her tobacco scented fingers had brushed Alex’ hair from his face as the tears came and their status ceased.

In the darkness of the room, Miles’ thighs bracketed Alex’ hips where he hovered over him, both of them morphing into winded and restless animals. “That’s alreyt, babeh. Been a hot minute for me too.” He smiles that sunshine down on Alex, raising gooseflesh over the boy's skin as his hands level over Alex' dipped stomach. “But I’ll take care of ya, hm? 

Feeling his defenses - what were left of them - melt into the mattress under him, Alex nods, his cheeks flaming as his jittery hand curled around Miles' beating cock. He loses any remaining resistance to that throbbing touch and moans, his parted lips swiftly filled with Miles' tongue.

It was all so right, as unfamiliar as it was, and Alex seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he parted his legs and kept them that way until morning.

//

In Miles' bed, Alex' hands grab at the hem of his shirt as Miles shoves it over his head, attaching his mouth to a nipple once the pink nub is exposed. Alex exhales a groan, a breath he'd been for what felt like his whole life. This entire experience was one big breath out. "Miles…" he says like a prayer. Miles the giver, Miles the taker. Miles the leather-clad angel. 

"Alex." Miles replies, his eyes shining in that pool of whiskey brown. 

"Can…" he breathes, swallowing. "Can i stay?" It didn't matter how long, he felt he'd take anything as Miles' hand curls around his inner thigh.

Miles simply widens that signature grin, his personal release from Alex' nerves, and leans in to part his lips before Alex'. Alex kisses him, and he too grins into it. Miles tastes like assurance - like certainty and some variation of home. 

It was time he let himself grow used to that taste. 


End file.
